


bittersweet nostalgia

by FancifulRivers



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bullying, F/F, Room of Requirement, Suicide, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 07:00:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18219773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancifulRivers/pseuds/FancifulRivers
Summary: The Room of Requirement can becomeanything.





	bittersweet nostalgia

Luna looks at her surroundings and takes a deep breath, feeling properly  _alive_ for the first time in months (and isn't that ironic?). No one save her father perhaps would recognise the room she found herself in. The broad, stained oak table there. The motley collection of cushioned armchairs that sat haphazardly around it, not a one of them matching. The plants crowding the windowsill (with even a touch of faded sunlight streaming through lace curtains). The pile rug in the middle of the floor.

The singe marks on the planking. The broken glass, twisted and smoking still- with what, Luna can't fathom. Strange traces of a potion no one could hope to identify. The smudges in the corner, where Luna had once stood, terrified and calling out, as her hair blew about her face and unnoticed tears streamed down her cheeks.

Perhaps it is fitting, coming  _here_ to die.

Luna sits neatly in the middle of the rug, cross-legged as she pulls out her wand, frowning lightly at the tip. It won't take much, she knows. A few well-placed Severing Charms and she will sprawl in the middle of the floor, boneless, as red pools and puddles around her. A fetching sight, if one is into that sort of thing. She has to be careful, because it's easy to lose your grip when you are straining to hold your wand while blood drips down your skin.

But she has faced Death Eaters. She has seen Voldemort. She has defied the unctuous pink atrocities that hide behind Umbridge's garish robes and girlish laugh. She has watched her mother die.

When she was younger, she thought Hogwarts would be a refuge. Like her mother promised. That dream died with Pandora. Her classmates are cruel. Her shoes go missing. Her homework is artfully shredded across her pillows until she learns the appropriate spells to protect it. She is hexed from behind and 'accidentally' tripped and shoved down the moving staircases. It is a wonder her classmates have not done this job for her, Luna thinks, and a beatific smile spreads across her face.

She painted her bedroom ceiling at home. It has passable portraits of all her friends, connected in loopy gold strands. She wonders how they will feel. Will they mourn? Will they even notice? She thinks they will, but there are many things she has thought that turned out to be not so true. Like her mother living to a ripe old age. Like Hogwarts being the fantastical castle of her dreams.

Ginny is more than a friend, but Luna isn't sure how. They have brushed hands in the hallways, sending bubbly, floaty feelings to tickle Luna's throat and stir the butterflies that exist perpetually in her stomach. Secluded by the lake, they have even exchanged hesitant kisses, Ginny tasting like hot chocolate and the crisp air around them, while their breath steamed and Ginny wrapped her scarf around Luna's pale column of exposed throat. It made her chest ache. It does now, to think of it.

Ginny will notice. Ginny will not forget. The thought strains Luna, bows her shoulders under an incomparable burden. She doesn't want to hurt Ginny. But she's so  _tired_. She rolls her wand between her hands, remembering the day she got it in Ollivander's. How she'd longed for her mother to be there, to watch her wave her first wand in the air, sparks exploding in a glorious display of colours.

She can hear the clock chime. Luna looks up, startled. If she is going to do this, she should do this now. Before she loses her nerve, thinking of Ginny's amber-flecked eyes and the fiery embers of her hair and the spray of freckles across her nose. The way she holds her wand when she's itching for a fight. The way she finds Luna's shoes no matter where they wander to. The way Luna knows Ginny's the reason so many of her dorm mates come down to breakfast with boil-covered faces or other unmentionable yet terribly funny ailments. How smart Ginny is- she would fit in Ravenclaw, no problem, if not for that spirit bursting to come out.

Despite herself, her wand lowers, pointing at her wrist. She has wasted enough time sitting here, lost in a cocoon of memories that she can't see a way free from. 

" _Diffindo_ ," Luna says softly. 

The line of red is thin at first. She watches it in horrified fascination as her skin peels back and more fat droplets of blood well to the surface. It  _hurts_ , more than she ever imagined, and perhaps that is what draws her the most from her lackadaisical, dozing state of apathy. She jerks to her feet, much like a marionette called to attention.

"I don't want this," Luna breathes, her face drawn tight with pain. Ginny's face blooms before her, soon followed by Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville. Her head spins and she sags against the door frame she hadn't realised she'd found.

"Please," she whispers. Blood patters to the floor. It sounds like rain against her window, the kind of storm she'd stay up all night to watch, curled up against her mum's side with a steaming mug of hot cocoa. 

The door opens by itself. Nearly  _slams_ open, narrowly missing Luna's face. 

White-faced and panting for breath, Ginny stands on the other side.

"I'm sorry," Luna says weakly. "I don't-" She sways and Ginny catches her, Quidditch-honed muscles easily holding her upright. A muttered wave of her wand and Luna watches a strip of bandage wind itself around her arm.

"You still need Madam Pomfrey," Ginny says, peering into her eyes. "You look like  _hell_ , Luna. Why did you- How-" She stops.

"How did you find me?" Luna asks instead.

"I don't know," Ginny admits. "I just got this- this feeling that you were in danger, that something was wrong, and I just ran, and somehow ended up here."

"You know, Ginny," Luna says. "Did you know-" She pauses, taking a deep breath. Her arm throbs viciously beneath the bandage.

"What?" Ginny asks, anxious. Luna smiles dreamily.

"When I'm with you, all the Wrackspurts go away," she whispers.

Ginny presses a soft, open-mouthed kiss to her forehead.

"To the Hospital Wing with you," she says, and picks Luna up, carrying her all the way there.


End file.
